


constantly on the cusp (of kissing you)

by wearenotsaints



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series), Watcher Entertainment RPF
Genre: BUN days, First time shenanigans, Getting Together, M/M, angst with that sappy ending, hand jobs and neediness, middle of no where USA, ryan is a pining mess, shanes on board with anything ryan wants to give him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-25
Updated: 2020-08-25
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:21:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26097034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wearenotsaints/pseuds/wearenotsaints
Summary: “I don't know how to talk to you anymore,” Ryan says into the chilled air of the hotel room. For a moment the only sound is the quiet whir of the air conditioner and Shane’s breathing across the space between their beds.(or: Ryan doesn't know how to ask for the things he wants, but Shane's pretty good at giving him what he needs anyway.)
Relationships: Ryan Bergara/Shane Madej
Comments: 10
Kudos: 104





	constantly on the cusp (of kissing you)

**Author's Note:**

> Apparently I'm only inspired enough to write every couple years...so here's the product of my latest fixation. I swear these dudes will be the end of me one of these days. 
> 
> I don't have a lot of issue with writing RPF bc I'm a genuine mess of a human, but I'll remind yall now that this is a work of fiction and if you or someone you know is mentioned in this, I can't be held responsible if you decide to read it. 
> 
> I also dont know what the timeline on this is bc time is a social construct but anywho lets say it happens before Watcher. I have so many ideas and not enough motivation to write them all. Send help.
> 
> Smut starts at “Jesus fuck Ryan” and ends at “Ryan huffs out a laugh”. Happy reading!

“I don't know how to talk to you anymore,” Ryan says into the chilled air of the hotel room. For a moment the only sound is the quiet whir of the air conditioner and Shane’s breathing across the space between their beds. 

“What does that even mean?” Shane asks, somewhat petulant but mostly calm. Ryan hates how in control Shane always is. About everything. 

“Exactly what I said,” Ryan mutters after another beat of silence. Shane isn’t stupid, not really, and Ryan wishes he would stop playing at it when it fuckin' matters. 

“We talk all the time. It kinda comes with the job.” 

Shane’s voice is pitched low and Ryan knows that if he looks over, Shane will be squinting at him—incredulous—through the darkness. There’s the sound of fumbling and then the bedside lamp flicks on. Ryan squeezes his eyes shut against the sudden onslaught and when he opens them again, Shane is shoving his clear frames onto his face. The lamplight is less harsh than Ryan expected and Shane is awash in its hazy glow. His hair looks soft despite all the places it’s sticking up and the slight downward slant of his mouth makes his nose scrunch endearingly. Ryan is so far gone for him that it ought to be embarrassing. It’s sort of the reason he opened his traitorous mouth in the first place. 

“I don’t just want it to be for the job,” Ryan half whines, half groans before throwing himself back against the pillows. Maybe if he applies enough pressure he can cut off his air supply and never have to see how things pan out. Shane seems to have other plans though because there's more rustling and then the tell tale dip of Ryan’s mattress as Shane settles in beside him. They aren’t touching, not exactly, and Ryan lets out another frustrated breath before flailing an arm out to catch against Shane’s chest. Shane doesn’t so much as flinch, he just reaches up to circle his fingers around the hot skin of Ryan’s wrist, effectively holding him still. Ryan stops breathing for a moment. 

“It never has been,” Shane says quietly, trailing the fingers of his other hand across Ryan’s palm. Ryan curls his fingers instinctively and holds on. Shane lets him, humming in contentment. It seems to short circuit Ryan’s brain and if he was looking, he thinks it might tunnel his vision into nothing but the place where they’re connected. Because for as long as he’s known Shane, Ryan can count on both hands how many times they have gone out of their way to intentionally touch. It’s the saddest thing Ryan’s ever felt about someone he spends so much time with because he’s usually so comfortable with himself and his other friends. Hugs and shoulder squeezes, back slaps and standing too close are second nature in those relationships, come as easy as breathing; with Shane the distance has never felt forced, it’s just simply always been. Like they simply couldn’t bring themselves to do more than look. 

Ryan is so fucking tired of looking. 

“Feel free to tell me to stop,” Ryan mumbles and before Shane can ask him what he means, Ryan has rolled firmly into Shane’s side. He untangles his wrist from Shane’s surprise slackened grip in order to plant both hands on either side of Shane’s head. Half on top, half off, Ryan dips down to slot their mouths together. It’s a quick press; hot and needy to echo the way Ryan feels whenever he looks at Shane for too long these days, but when the taller man doesn't immediately move away, Ryan goes for a more drawn out exchange. He slides his tongue against the seam of Shane’s lips and can’t hold back the groan when Shane opens his mouth to let Ryan in. 

At the sound, Shane’s fingers fly up to scrabble against the thin material of Ryan’s shirt across his back, effectively pulling Ryan further into him. Their bodies fit together like they were made for doing this; the subtle push and pull as simple as the banter they exchange or the inside jokes they’ve collected over years of moving within each other's orbit. Ryan thinks he could die right now and be satisfied with the life he’s lived. He also thinks he could keep doing this— kissing Shane on some dingy hotel bedspread in the middle of nowhere America— and be just as satisfied. Whatever comes after this can be something Future Ryan deals with. 

“Jesus— _fuck_ , Ryan,” Shane whimpers, moving his head to the side to gasp in a breath with his eyes shut tight. The long expanse of his throat bobs helplessly in Ryan’s peripheral so he does what any sane person would do and bites down on the soft juncture between Shane’s shoulder and neck. Shane’s hips buck up into Ryan’s with enough force to dislodge him, but Ryan isn’t letting go that easy. He slides a hand down the expanse of Shane’s chest to curl against his right hip bone; it’s effortless to pin Shane like this and Ryan’s mind spins with the weight of this new information. Wonders if Shane would writhe like this as Ryan worked careful fingers into him, stretching him open in preparation for something bigger; the sounds Shane might make while Ryan got him all sloppy and open. 

“Shh, baby. ‘M right here,” Ryan soothes, runs his tongue along the skin where Shane’s flush creeps down below his collar bones, out of sight due to the t-shirt he’s wearing, “Wanna take good care of you. Will you let me?” 

Shane nods enthusiastically as Ryan continues his exploration of all that available skin. He wants, and wants, and _wants_ , his entire body thrumming with it. He paws at the hem of Shane’s shirt until he gets the idea and they work together to peel the offending fabric off. Suddenly, there’s more of Shane bared to him and Ryan keens again, moving frantically to get his own shirt off. He pauses at the waistband of his shorts, because even though the all consuming urge to undress and press the length of them together is strong, Ryan also needs to be certain Shane’s on board. 

“This okay?” He slurs, fingers twitching in anticipation, and Shane’s gaze is blown wide when Ryan’s eyes meet his. Shane swallows thickly again and gives a jerk of his head; with an enormous display of self restraint, Ryan whispers that he needs to hear Shane say it, to tell him he wants just as much as Ryan is willing to give. 

“Yes, please. God, yes—” And Ryan doesn’t let him finish begging before he’s crashing their mouths together again and shucking his shorts off single handedly. Shane scrambles below him, twisting hips up to push at his own pajama pants until finally, they’re skin to skin. Ryan hisses in a breath, mind whiting out at the feel of how thick and long Shane is against the crease of where his thigh meets his hip. He needs to get a hand on Shane, a hand on himself, _something_ , _anything_ before he comes just on proximity alone. Shane, who leads the way into dilapidated old buildings when Ryan feels faint from fear, beats him to this first as well. Which is perfectly fine by Ryan because Shane’s hands are big and strong and so, so skilled when he wraps one around both their shafts. 

“Fuck me,” Ryan pants into Shane’s mouth, feels the vibration of a resounding laugh though his chest in answer. 

“Trying to,” Shane responds and Ryan’s brain melts at the thought. It’ll have to be next time though because Shane’s too good, his hold just right, and the flick of his wrist across the head of their dicks has got Ryan’s toes curling. He is not going to last, no fucking chance in hell, and he takes the breif pause between Shane’s strokes to tell him as much. Shane makes another appreciative noise in the back of his throat and that’s embarrassingly, enough for Ryan. He comes with a jolt between them, in long hot pulses that streak up across their stomachs and chests, sticky where it mingles with their sweat. Shane swears impressively against the shell of Ryan’s ear; tugs once, twice, a third time and then he’s coming too. Adding to the mess their bodies have become with a choked off cry and then the rumble of another laugh. “Well that was certainly an interesting development.”

Ryan huffs out a laugh of his own as he flops to the side, arms finally giving out, but he stays close so they remain touching from shoulder to thigh. He thinks he should say something besides _thanks_ or _do you know just how long I’ve wanted that to happen?_ But his heart has started beating a wild staccato behind his rib cage and for some reason he can’t put into words, Ryan is unable to bring himself to look Shane in the eye again. Is afraid of what he might see there; afraid of anything except contentment and understanding. 

“Hey,” Shane says softly, dragging his fingers along Ryan’s jaw, tilting his head back so Ryan has no choice but to close his eyes or meet Shane’s searching look, “We good?” 

“Y-yeah,” Ryan breathes, eyelashes a dark sweep against his cheekbones when they flutter briefly, “Really, really good.”

Shane’s smile crinkles his eyes into half crescents and Ryan touches them at the corners because he just can’t help himself now. Shane doesn’t make a move to stop him. In fact, the creases at the corners deepen as he smiles wider. 

“As fun as that was,” Shane says softly, Ryan’s fingers moving to trace up along his hairline before he slips them into the thick tangle of Shane’s hair and elicits another stuttering moan, “We should probably also talk.”

Ryan makes a noncommittal sound of agreement accented by a squeeze of fingers at the nape of Shane’s neck. 

“Okay, but later. First—” he threads his fingers a little tighter and smirks at the way Shane’s eyes roll back, “I think we should shower. Then talking, so much talking.”

“Yeah, alright,” Shane nods, like it’s all he knows how to do anymore, “Sounds like a plan to me, Bergara.” Then he’s kissing Ryan again even as they both make to move off the bed and Ryan laughs genuinely into Shane’s mouth, absolutely drunk on the taste of it and the knowledge that he was worried over nothing for so goddamn long. 

**Author's Note:**

> spook me at juliangohome.tumblr.com


End file.
